


Questioning Divines

by missema



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Crushes, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Silent Gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 05:03:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missema/pseuds/missema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Florentius is pursued by the Dragonborn, goaded by a maddeningly silent Arkay.  At first willfully ignorant of her crush on him, he constantly questions his resident god for guidance, but gets no answer.  Silence sometimes speaks louder than words, and these are purely problems of the fickle mortal heart.</p><p>A kmeme fill for Florentius bending the Dragonborn over the alchemy table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Questioning Divines

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why, but it took me seven months to finish this fill. My writing has been so inconsistent this year, even when I do challenges or force myself. Sorry for the wait on this if you were reading it on the meme when it died. But I'm trying to pack and get out the door soon, so sorry for any mistakes, I might fix them later.
> 
> I like these two though - there might be more stories for them.

She didn't see him, and for that Florentius blew out a relieved breath as he crept away from her sight line. Natalya the Dovahkiin, the fiercest fighter he'd ever seen and his own rescuer - was a dark plague upon his mind these days. Perhaps not quite a plague, he chastened himself for the hyperbole, but she was nevertheless an unwanted presence that stole away the little peace that remained in his mind.

It started innocently enough, with his own rescue and recruitment into the Dawnguard by her at the suggestion of Sorine and Gunmar. Old friends, such as they were. He was grateful to all of them, but especially Natalya for looking for him, saving his life. Afterward, the two of them worked together whenever she was around, with her following out the most dangerous of Isran's orders, and later, with the vampire Serana following her around. He knew nothing of Serana because she didn't belong in the dominion of Arkay, but rather that of a daedra. 

But the Dragonborn wasn't, and they shared an interest in Alchemy. She often came to him (with the vampire trailing behind her, a curious friendship, but Arkay approved of Natalya's influence) and bought ingredients, looking for more work or just to talk. After a short while in his acquaintance, she began to change. 

First it was the bouncing amulet of Arkay that she began to wear. He said not a word about it, but the Divine was pleased, and so was he. Then her armor changed, so that the amulet was nestled in the valley of her breasts, and when she turned around, he saw the rich fallow color of the exposed skin of her back. It was like the old armor of the Nords, he knew that, but Florentius had a hard time remembering when the skirt had been so short, or if the sides should give him glimpses of the side of her breasts. She seemed to only talk at length to him, her questions about alchemy inexhaustible. 

Eventually, Florentius gave into his own curiosity and asked about the armor, earning a proud smile from the Dragonborn. Apparently, she'd crafted it at Jorrvaskr at their famous forge. He hadn't known she was Harbinger of the Companions until then, and he worked hard to put her and that damnable armor out of his mind.

His prayers to Arkay on the matter were alarmingly silent.

He had hoped it wasn't as he feared, that she was not trying to seduce him. Vanity wasn't a normal indulgence for him, and so he chastised himself and wrote it off as coincidence. After her last visit, he could no longer afford to delude himself, because apparently everyone knew already about her feelings for him. At the table in the morning when they broke their fast, Gunmar smiled cheekily at him over a crust of bread before announcing it to the whole of the table.

"So it seems like the Dragonborn has a crush on you, Florentius. Or maybe she just really likes Arkay."

Laughter abounded all around, but Florentius held his head up and glared at Gunmar. "Don't be absurd. We share an interest an alchemy, that is all."

More laughter, this time louder, more raucous. There were a few pitying titters from Sorine, who was giving him a Look. It clearly said, don't be daft, but Florentius was adept at ignoring all looks by now. He'd suffered worse. 

"She doesn't change her armor to come buy smithing supplies, I'll tell you that."

Florentius thanked Arkay for his dark skin, so that no one could see the flush spreading across it in the dim room. "Perhaps she feels no need to make the effort for one who doesn't even bathe regularly." 

A chorus of chortles and a prolonged 'ooooh' came from the other end of the table, but Florentius ignored it. Opening his mouth to condemn the poor bathing habits of the smith once more, he was cut off by the stern voice of Isran.

"Alright you two, cut it out. Gunmar, take a bath. I don't want to have to remind you again. Florentius - of course she likes you, fool, though I don't see why."

Florentius had little to say after that, but when she arrived at the Fort next, he avoided her.

#####

However valiant his tries were, there was no way he could avoid her forever, especially not when she sought him out. The echoes of that fateful breakfast played in his mind as she sweetly asked to see what he had for sale. Their hands touched as she spoke, and she didn't move away at the contact. His voice stuck, but he managed to find it as he turned away to show her his wares.

"I have no idea really." Florentius admitted, as he often did.

Natalya smiled widely at him, "I'm sure I can find what I need." She assured him, her voice little more than a purr.

She was beautiful, he realized and started at the expected observation. Natalya had long, dark hair that hung past her shoulders and bronzed skin a paler hue than his own. He suspected, but had never asked, that she was Nord with some Redguard mixed in, her features favoring her Nord side, but slightly altered, almost imperceptibly. He'd first thought her an Imperial like himself, but she lacked the sharpness of feature, and she stood a little taller than he. Her body was fit but not thin, her bottom and thighs pleasantly full and strong, and in her armor, he could admire the muscles of her back as the flickering light played against them. 

It had been many, many moons since he had taken a lover, though it was not forbidden. He could marry, if he so chose, but few understood his unique circumstances with Arkay being what they were. It hadn't been easy for him in the least, but he'd learned to live with the intrusion. Others shunned him, thought him mad, but he wasn't. It was as unexplained as many mysteries in Nirn, and not his place to question it. Instead of focus on man, he'd retreated into understanding the god, and focusing his will to carry out his orders. He served man still, in a way, but it was always Arkay first.

"Why do you persist in flirting with me?" He asked outright, but not unkindly as her fingers brushed over his when they exchanged coin. Gunmar was right - she had changed her armor when she'd gotten to the fort. Before she'd been wearing something heavier, that covered her completely. Now she was back in that revealing Nord set and her skirt was shorter than he remembered, the armor tighter. There was no way she actually fought in it, with her breasts straining at the leather and that amulet bouncing between them.

"Do you not like me?" She asked, dodging the question.

"I am a priest of Arkay." He answered, equally evasive. She smiled at him, her expression almost pitying. He wondered if she and Sorine had somehow gotten together and perfected that look when he hadn't noticed.

"And what does he say about this matter?" She waited for a beat, just long enough for his silence to be answer enough. "Too 'realm of man' for him?"

"I don't bother Arkay with these sort of questions." He lied, and Natalya saw right through it.

"Of course you do. We all do - we pray for guidance, for health and strength, to find love, for the well-being of our loved ones." She said, pocketing the gold she'd made off of him. She stopped and looked up at him, falsely coy and questioning. "But one must wonder who would be so audacious as the question the wisdom of a Divine when they've already answered?"

"Nothing was said." Florentius responded, trapping himself in her web of words.

"Perhaps that's answer enough." Natalya said.

It wasn't enough for him, Florentius thought hotly, as he turned away from her. Arkay wouldn't abandon him now, especially not in something so mundane - or would he? Was she right in thinking he had already answered, that he was questioning a divine by not paying heed to the silence that greeted his lamentations about the Dragonborn? The thought of something so close to blasphemy made his head ache. He would need to think on this.

#####

It turns out there is little time for the contemplation he so wanted. There are preparations to be made, training to be done for the lot of them. They are getting closer to their inevitable confrontation, lending excitement and anxiety to their group in equal measure. It delights Arkay that they would end these creatures and their plan to create a world of their dominion. Night after night, Florentius falls into bed exhausted. He is responsible for their health and well being, so that they are well stocked in curatives and the aids they will need for the battle, so he mixes and makes what they will need, in addition to his own training. Firing a crossbow doesn't come easy to him. Whatever progress Natalya is making, it keeps her busy and he sees little of her.

But he dreams of her often enough that it is almost like seeing her on a regular basis. Arkay says nothing about his dreams, even when he wonders aloud what they mean. The others pay him no heed, all of them talk to themselves. But her words keep him up when he should be sleeping, distract him when he mixes his potions. Arkay's silence speaks loudly.

Weeks after that conversation, the Dawnguard is assembled for their attack. He sees Natalya as he never has before - battle ready and fierce. Their work until that point had seemed so slow, sending her off to fetch Elder Scrolls, of all things and then to read them. Arkay had plenty of words of warning about that - the Scrolls weren't meant for the eyes of men, not even the Dovahkiin. But after the endless hunting and preparation, they move much, much faster. 

Florentius knew that this could be the end for all of them, Isran's assurances to their victory notwithstanding. It is odd, because for as many times as he'd fought and been scared, he's never considered the absoluteness of the end. There are things he's wanted to do and held back on, answers still out there for him to find. He's not ready, but he looks over at Natalya, and knows that she's younger than he, even though he's never asked. She's risked her life over and over again for their cause, to find him, and he can't shrink back when she's up in the front, looking fearless.

His injuries are enough to slow him down right after the first onslaught. They aren't going to kill him, but he won't be of much help inside until he can patch himself up considerably. Natalya comes to check on him before she follows Isran in towards the battle. Her eyes, lovely and dark are filled with concern, with care and focuses solely on him. Despite his assurances that he would be alright, she heals him, her powerful magick mingling with his own. 

"Don't die on me, alright?" She says, breathless as she pushes another wave of magicka over him.

"I promise, I'll be fine. Just go on, Isran will need you in there." He was support, to heal those that got hit as he had, not part of the fighting force.

Natalya leaned over where he stood limply against the stone bridge that led to the estate and her lips caught his before he had time to protest. Her kiss seared - hot, soft lips pressing hard against his own. It hadn't ever occurred to him before what her kiss would be like, but this is beyond expectations. She is warm in his hands, heat pulsing through her armor, arms he hadn't realized he'd lifted were now wrapped around her. There's grit on her lips, but that doesn't stop her from tasting like honey mead and tundra cotton. It's a quick thing, but not short enough to brush it off and not nearly long enough for his liking. That realization startles him almost as much as the kiss itself.

"For luck." She said simply and backed away. She took one look back at where he stood, dumbstruck and staring after her then ran through the double doors that stood wide open, leaving his lips searing with her imprint. 

He's not quite sure who needs the luck, him or her.

#####

When she returns to Fort Dawnguard one night alone, without the shuffling of Serana behind her, Florentius is ready to be bold. As forward as her kiss was in the midst of battle, it pales to every one he's dreamed of giving her afterward. She may not know what she inspired in him, with a kiss and some words, but he's been waiting to repay her in kind. She doesn't really speak to anyone at length when she walks through the fort, just pulls off her pack and roots around in it wearily. He can see the slump in her shoulders, hear the effort it takes her to greet all of them in a quiet voice.

"You seem like you should be heading to bed." Florentius says when Natalya eschews the relative comfort their dormitory to join him near the alchemy table. While he is organizing and cataloging the ingredients (he'd need more mountain flowers and honeycomb to continue his work tomorrow), she's leaned over the table, intent on creating something from her own stores.

She turns at the sound of his voice, treating him to a soft laugh. Her dark eyes shine like obsidian glinting in the moonlight as they fix on him, and the voice of Arkay goes silent in his head.

"As much as I'd like to sleep for, I don't know, a week or so - there are still dragons out there for me to fight. One in particular."

"Alone?" He asks, before he can stop himself.

"I'll travel alone, but I don't think I'll fight on my own. If that makes any sense." Natalya answered. His answering nod is part understanding and part commiseration. This was her duty.

He understands her answer better than she thinks. Even if he weren't so closely connected to Arkay he would be able to sense the Dragon within her, to feel the touch of Akatosh. He knows when someone has the mark of a divine on them, and she bears hers well. Perhaps that's why she was so good at unnerving him in the past with her flirtations and questions. She, more than anyone else in the Dawnguard, is like him.

The ends of her hair are wet, as if she'd recently bathed but didn't secure her hair completely. It hangs down her back as she returns her attention to her stores of ingredients, and pulls out potion bottles. The scent of lavender rises from her warm skin, and it's partially bared again, visible under the straps of the old Nordic armor she preferred. It's obvious to him now that she does bathe before she comes to the fort, and he nearly groans with the dawning of comprehension. Gunmar had teased him about being dense before when it came to Natalya. All of this effort just for him, and he'd been walking away to have chats with Arkay.

The sight of her bending over catches his eye, and Florentius unabashedly admires the shape of her rear, the curves her exposed thighs as her skirt rides up. When she straightens and turns, she catches him watching. Her face is flushed but she's smiling at him in a knowing way, like a cat that got the cream.

"I guess you've decided to have a word with Arkay about me."

"The conversation was rather one sided, and in the end, I've decided to make up my own mind."

"Oh? And what conclusions have you come to?" She asks, smirking prettily at him. The fatigue he'd seen in her earlier is completely banished now, she is as radiant as the fire she could bend to her will. Her hands are on her hips, and he closes the short distance between them, standing close enough that he can see the light sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

"It's time that I answer you with more than words." Florentius whispers, and then captures her mouth with his own. There is a dark ferocity of banked desire underlying his every move, his lips hard against hers and Natalya moans softly against his mouth. This was the kiss he'd wanted to give her since she'd left him at Castle Volkihar.

Florentius felt her curve into him as one kiss become another, and another as she pulled him closer. The first kiss had turned into a serious where the current kiss surpassed the last in his mind. He tangled a fist in her heavy, dark hair, and smiled against her lips when he felt the dampness that still lingered within. He'd have to repay her efforts one of these days, maybe even bathe with her since she made such a habit of it. 

He let her lead, fearing that he may have overstepped their uneasy flirtations but he needn't have worried. Natalya clearly wanted this, and he berated himself for making them both wait so long. It was foolish - but so worth it if this want, the overpowering, enveloping heat was the answer.

There was no sweetness in it, as there is none in a fire when it consumes greedily to feed itself. "Next time," Florentius promises her in a ragged whisper and receives only her whimper in return. Her teeth rake over a tendon in his neck and he cannot properly see anymore, so he closes his eyes and gives wholly into sensation. 

There is nothing in him left to give voice to the rest of the statement, and the gloriously filthy promise he wanted to give her is lost in his throat. Next time he would take her up on the ramparts and see her nudity bathed in starlight. Next time he would take hours and cover her body with his own, teasing out her secrets and goading her into discovering his. Next time they would let the gods watch with envy as he took her again and again, from the first hints of twilight until the midday sun beat on his back and every moan would an offering to the heavens.

But this time was filled with too much heat for leisure, skin that scalded whenever they touched, kisses that smoldered like long burning coals. Natalya thrust her tongue into his mouth and took, demanding action as he slid her skirt higher, his tongue meeting hers with equal fervor. It was a conversation without words but filled with instruction and meaning, her hands snapping impatiently at the straps to his Dawnguard armor, the flats of his hands skimming over what she'd already bared, seeking out more. Around them it was silent, save for their groans and grunts, the hollow thunk of a potion bottle hitting the ground and rolling away - a world away from the snores of their colleagues. They are alone and Arkay is blessedly silent, letting the space rented in Florentius's head fill with more mortal concerns, more instinct and less thought.

Her hands brace around the edges of the alchemy table when he unfastens her armor, delighting in the sight of her unbound breasts for only a second before he closes his mouth over the hardened peak of one. She moans at the contact, a deep rich moan that sounds from a distance, her head falling back between her shoulders. He is greedy, moving quickly from one to the other and suckling hard, a finger lingering at the edges of smallclothes that grow damper the more he sucks.

It's a small thing, but her knee wobbles as he's kissing the valley between her breasts, both of them panting as if they run to Fort Dawnguard from Riften. Her knee trembles against him and he slides his finger inside her, slowly moving it in and out a few times with closed eyes, before returning to flick her nipples with his tongue. The pad of his thumb bathes in her wetness, brushing against her clit as his finger pumps in and out.

Natalya climaxes like that, his finger inside of her, a thumb teasing and his mouth clamped hard on a nipple. It isn't loud, but starts like a shiver and quickly evolves into knuckles locked hard around the alchemy lab as quakes run up and down her spine and she clenches desperately around his finger.

She gives him a large, lazy grin for his efforts, a break in the rapidity of their coupling. He chuckles and she kisses him, reigniting their urgency once again. Armor falls to the floor in a heap around them, and it's his turn to shiver as she draws a line up his chest with her tongue, then back down again. He's painfully hard when she's done, but he let's her do it again, just once more her tongue tracing a line up to his mouth where he tastes himself on her lips.

When he guides her towards the table again, Natalya complies quickly, but always teases. Her dark hair is pulled over a shoulder so he can appreciate the view of her back and ass unfettered, and she gives a little wiggle. It nearly undoes him completely and she knows it. 

Instead of one swift movement to hilt himself within her, Florentius moves with teeth-gritting slowness. He is deliberate here, to feel himself perfectly filling Natalya, his groan matching hers, both soft and low, completed with a sigh when he finally is all the way in. The eye of the storm quickly passes, and he starts thrusting into her so fast and hard the whole table shakes with the force.

They fuck hard, because there's no way they could resist the momentum that propelled them. Sweat beads on his brow and pops up in pinpricks on her back. Each of his thrusts are met by her own, hips rolling to meet him, the sound of each meeting of flesh a rhythmic undertone to their mingled moans. Florentius is dimly aware that he's talking, words coming out piecemeal, mangled oaths and her name, 'oh sweet breath of Arkay' as she arches her back.

He finishes with a full body shudder and a roar that probably woke the whole of the Fort, but he doesn't care as his cock twitches his release inside of her. Natalya moves slowly now, easing him through the release, her sweet warmth holding him tight even as he stops moving. The rattle of the table subsides and she catches her breath before pulling apart from him.

Florentius catches her in a kiss, arms wrapped around her so tight he can feel the indents in her skin where the various tubes and plates from the table left marks. Natalya, for all that she was once a plague on his mind, is his now, if she'll accept him. 

They don't really talk, but help each other redress, though he forestalls her when she tries to fasten his armor. He's too tired to get out of it again, and his bed is calling.

"I have a house." Natalya says, breaking the silence for the first time. "In Riften. If you'd ever want to visit." She's almost shy and Florentius goes to her, reassuring.

He pushes her hair from her face and smiles. "Then we'll visit there together and have more privacy." He says softly. She smiles at him, eyes shining.

They dim momentarily and she looks like she's got something else to say, but she turns her head and the moment passes. "I have some more potions to make, but don't let me keep you up."

He kisses her goodnight one last time, a long, lingering kiss that makes his heart race even as he tries to lay still in his cot. In the darkness Arkay maintains his silent vigil as sleep overtakes Florentius.


End file.
